Way Beyond
by Ceillean
Summary: Far future. What if the Jedi were a legend? Completely forgotten, believed to only be stories one tells their children to frighten them? OC songfic to 32 leaves "Way Beyond"


Panting, he felt free. As if he had finally broken the waters' surface after diving for far too long, drowning in a murkiness of hatred and lies.

"Stay away from me." His voice was hoarse as he spoke, shaking his head while leaning against the cold wall within the cell.

"I'm here to help you."

"_Stay away from me_!" He bellowed, reaching up to grip at his hair. He hurt, everything hurt and it was his own fault. Because he had trusted the wrong person, _believed_ the wrong person and what had it gotten him? An endless road of despair. No one trusted him; no one even believed his claims that the Jedi Master was indeed no Jedi at all. He was darkness incarnate, evil thousands of years old.

An evil the people had forgotten and so it was easy for him to resurface and begin anew what had failed so many decades and generations ago.

"Please…you must leave. I am unclean." He leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. His own voice whispered within his head, clear words meaning to wake him up and show him the way to salvation. It kept telling him not to give up, to grasp hope and grasp the hands of those who wanted to help him; those who wanted to show him the path he needed to tread to become the person he once was.

Did he even want to be that person again? He had learned so much in the past year, he had gained so much potential – would he really be able to relinquish all this after tasting what it was like to have power?

_You must look back to who you are. The boy from Dantooine – the man from Coruscant._

"I am unclean. I do not deserve help."

_Suddenly it all occurred to me  
Lost as I am  
There's breathing room  
On both sides me_

He felt a feather light touch on his knee and he jerked away, afraid that his dark soul might sully the person claiming to help him. Could he even trust her? The last time he had trusted, he had killed.

_And you liked it. You enjoyed every second of it – you enjoyed watching life seep from your victims' eyes, you enjoyed watching the blood spill from wounds you inflicted. You enjoy killing._

"No." He whispered, shaking his head. "No. I am not a murderer."

_You pretend to be a good and decent person. You are not._

"He tricked me." He hissed between clenched teeth, pressing his palms to his eyes. He wished only that the voices would stop.

"Who tricked you?" the woman asked, gently stroking his knee with her thumb. Her kindness baffled him. He was dirty, unworthy of her help!

_Suddenly I came to be lost in my head  
A victim of anxiety_

"He claimed to be my Master. He claimed he would show me the way to enlightenment."

"What Master are you talking about?"

He narrowed his eyes, "The Jedi Master."

She cleared her throat and it was obvious she did not believe him. Who would? After everything the Master had done to him, who would ever dare believe him?

"Tell me about this Master of yours."

"He is no longer." He snarled at her, for the first time consciously looking at her. She was an elderly woman, with blond hair pulled from her a wrinkly yet kind face. Her dark eyes shone with sympathy and an understanding he could not begin to fathom. "He showed me great things." He let himself smile but it quickly faded. "He showed me a world beyond my wildest dreams."

_Guide me way beyond this  
Way beyond this world  
Thought you would  
Guide me way beyond this  
Way beyond this world_

He chuckled and ran a hand through his long blond hair. "It's hard to explain in common words. The Force –"

"The Force?" the woman asked softly, arching her perfect brows.

"Surely you know of the Force. It is what gives a Jedi his power."

"Of course I've heard of it. It is legendary."

He scowled at the words. "The Force is not a legend. It is real. I can feel it coursing through my veins as we speak."

The woman cleared her throat and he saw doubt in her face now, an unspeakable truth that he was indeed insane. Surely he wasn't! Not all this could have only been a dream!

"Tell me more about your Master."

"He showed me evil and he showed me good. Things that I had not dreamed of before. I wanted to believe that I was doing good, cleansing the universe of demons and vile monsters. He taught me to use my anger and hatred to fuel the power within me." His voice grew quiet as he closed his eyes, remembering the rampage and the blood. The needless killings…

"He lied to me. He _damaged_ me."

_You taught me to face what I've never seen  
Then you let me lie (It's all been a game)  
You taught me to hate above everything  
Then you sold me lies (You're not what you seem)  
I'm trying to erase what you've done to me_

The woman smiled sadly. "Damaged you how?"

"I have nightmares of killing the innocents. He said they were evil, they were following the Dark Side. He played with my mind and he used me because he couldn't do it himself."

"Why couldn't he do it himself?"

"Because he doesn't exist as flesh and blood."

The woman looked away but not fast enough – he saw in her eyes what everyone else thought of him. That he was crazy. But he wasn't crazy! "He came to me and he recruited me. And now he's out to find someone else."

"Does this Master have a name?"

He shook his head. "He never told me his name."

The woman sighed and got to her feet, grabbing a chart from the floor. "I am sorry." She whispered. "I am not the only one who must evaluate your case. There will be a hearing in two days time. Your fate will be decided then."

He lowered his head between his knees and held his peace. What other choice did he have but to wait? Wait while others, who believed nothing of his story, decided if he were to live or die.

He had killed in the name of his Master – but no one had ever seen his Master. Nor had it been proven that he could indeed wield this _Force_.

The Force and the Jedi were a myth told to children before they were tucked into bed. Had the Jedi ever existed, they were extinct – so was the common knowledge of them.

His crimes could never be forgiven. His hands were red with innocent blood.

"You must not give up hope." The woman whispered. "There are some of us who still believe in the old ways. Never give up hope."

She turned on her heel and rapped on the cold, metal door. It swung open loudly, slamming closed and echoing within the enclosed space that he had called his home for the past few months. How long he would be locked up in this small cell, he didn't know.

It might only be days, maybe weeks, maybe months – perhaps even years.

The common government did not care for the crazed. Lock them up and throw away the key, that was their overall motto.

So he sat back against the cold wall and waited.

If he were lucky, perhaps his Master would return and show him the way…


End file.
